


Too Young for this Cruel Altar

by ilostmyshoe



Category: Dune - All Media Types, Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Feels, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, Pre-Series, Pre-Stanford, Protective Dean Winchester, Sam Angst, Young Dean Winchester, Young Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-06
Updated: 2013-10-06
Packaged: 2017-12-28 13:27:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/992518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilostmyshoe/pseuds/ilostmyshoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sure, hunting’s dangerous, but Dad and Dean would never let anything really bad happen to Sam, right? </p><p>"Sam closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and forced all of his muscles to relax. The smooth stone of the altar felt cold against his cheek and bare chest. The stone floor was a rougher texture that grated on his knees, even through the minimal padding of his jeans. He heard the snap and crackle of flames and cracked his eyes into slits, just wide enough to see the shadows cast on the wall beside him. He studied the looming shapes, counting five definite individuals and estimating that there were at least ten in total. With the wavering images it was impossible to be certain of their number, or even whether they were strictly human."</p><p>This will make sense if you have never read Dune; there are some quick explanatory notes at the beginning for context if you want them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Young for this Cruel Altar

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't read Dune:
> 
> Sandworms (also known as Shai-Hulud) are huge worms (like the size of trains and larger) that live on the desert planet of Dune. In the books the people that live on the planet have complex relationships with and understandings of the worms. They sometimes call them intentionally, and the worms can be very useful, but they are incredibly dangerous. The worms really do not like water (which works well on a desert planet), and one of the few ways that they are vulnerable is that they can be drowned. In the books they are respected and play a role in some religion, but not really considered gods, and they don't (intentionally) eat people.

Sam struggled for a minute, pulling against his bonds, but the ropes held firm. His arms were spread wide, and no matter how hard he pulled he couldn’t move more than an inch or two in any direction. Then he froze as the swishing of cloth and clomping of many feet entered the room. The sounds echoed in the wide space, making it impossible to guess how many people stood around him.

Sam closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and forced all of his muscles to relax. The smooth stone of the altar felt cold against his cheek and bare chest. The stone floor was a rougher texture that grated on his knees, even through the minimal padding of his jeans. He heard the snap and crackle of flames and cracked his eyes into slits, just wide enough to see the shadows cast on the wall beside him. He studied the looming shapes, counting five definite individuals and estimating that there were at least ten in total. With the wavering images it was impossible to be certain of their number, or even whether they were strictly human.

Then he heard a new sound: the unmistakable _snikt, snikt, snikt_ of a knife scraping against a sharpening block. He willed himself not to react as a warm hand pressed down almost gently between his shoulder blades.

“Shhh.” A low voice murmured. “It’ll all be over soon, and it’ll be easiest if you stay still and silent.”

From the center of the room a deeper voice began to speak: “The masses misunderstand the most holy text. They see, but they do not comprehend. They analyze pseudo-histories of religion and culture and find allegories about growth and rebirth. The reality is so much simpler and purer. The Great Book is a love song to power and self-discipline. It teaches us the psalm that summons Shai-Hulud.”

A quiet, rhythmic thumping began, and other voices quietly joined in the chant: “ _I must not fear._ Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain. Shai-Hulud, we call on you and give you the water of life. Grant us the gift of your presence, oh Shai-Hulud.”

The knife was a sharp, quick burn that sliced open Sam’s forearms in quick succession. He felt fingers interlace with his, hands press down over his own, and the blood from the cuts begin dripping down his wrists into the grooves of the altar.

The chant began to repeat: “ _I must not fear._ Fear is the mind killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration . . .” With each iteration the voices grew louder and more fervent, until they were joined by a new sound: a deep scraping and grinding that made the whole room vibrate. The chanting died away, but the rhythmic thumping continued in resonance with the vibrations.

The deep voice cried out triumphantly into the silence: “Shai-Hulud! The Maker comes! He has accepted our offering. His hour is at hand!”

Suddenly powerful explosions shook the room. Sam heard an epic _wooosh_ as something huge crashed into a large body of water, and then splashing, thrashing, and a high-pitched, inhuman scream that drowned out every other noise before fading away into silence.

For a moment the whole room seemed frozen in shock. The only sound was the _skitter-plink_ of pebbles rolling along the floor and falling into the water below. Then the flames went out. There was a scream, the sound of a scuffle, and the entire room descended into chaos.

Sam realized that the figure at his back had disappeared. He pulled against his bonds once more and strained his neck, trying to see what was happening in the darkness behind him. He felt someone trip over his feet and fall sprawling onto the stone floor. It must have knocked the man unconscious, because Sam had to awkwardly kick at the guy’s feet to untangle them from his own. Another body stumbled against Sam’s legs and fell onto his back, landing with an elbow just below the boy’s ribs before being yanked back off of him.

Then, as suddenly as it began, the fight was over. A flashlight beam played over Sam’s face, and he winced away from the sudden light.

“Hey. Hey, Sammy, are you okay? I’m sorry about that last guy, he kinda got away from me.” Dean put the flashlight on the stone next to Sam’s arm so that he could see as he carefully cut his little brother loose from the altar.

Sam groaned. “Sure, Dean. Whatever. I’m fine.” In spite of his words, he leaned back against his big brother’s chest as Dean put a coat over his bare shoulders and bandaged the cuts on his wrists. “And I told you to stop calling me Sammy.”

“Whatever, Sammy,” Dean snorted and wrapped his arms tight around his brother as he pulled them both to their feet.

“Come on, boys.” John stepped into the circle of light. “Caleb’s calling the cops and letting them know where to find these scum. We need to be long gone before they arrive.”

He turned without waiting for an answer, and the brothers immediately began following him out.

“So Sammy,” said Dean. “What d’you think of your first big case? I think we kicked ass. There should be enough evidence to lock those dicks up for kidnapping, even if the authorities won’t be able to make heads or tails of everything else. And even if the ass-wipes do get away clean their “god” is dead, which pretty much makes them the lamest cult in existence. The tunnel and aquifer lined up just like we calculated, the explosion was perfectly timed, and the sandworm dissolved enough in the water that it won’t be recognizable as anything supernatural, so we don’t even have to do any real clean up. Pretty awesome, right?”

Sam squinted up at him, and then at their dad’s retreating back. “I thought you said you weren’t gonna cut me for real?”

Dean looked away. “I’m sorry about that, okay? I guess it had to be at least partly your blood or the ritual wouldn’t have worked. We didn’t figure that out until you’d already gotten yourself grabbed, or I would have told you. I wouldn’t have lied to you about something like that Sam, I swear.”

“ _At least partly my blood?_ What’s that mean? What’d you use for the rest of it?” Sam demanded.

“Uh, mine?” He held up his still bleeding wrists with a shrug.

“What the hell, Dean? And you didn’t even bandage them up yet? Idiot! Give me the rest of the bandages.” Sam grabbed his brother’s wrist and held his other hand out imperiously.

“Whatever. It’s not a big deal, Sam.” Dean rolled his eyes but pulled the necessary materials out of his pocket.

“Boys!” John shouted, striding back towards them. “We need to go _now_.” At Sam’s glare he added, “You can patch him up in the car. We’re almost there, so get moving.”

“Yes, _sir_.” Dean responded. He grabbed Sam by his coat sleeve and yanked him along until they got to the Impala. John had the car idling and pulled away from the curb as soon as they both slid into the back seat.

Sam finished bandaging Dean without a word and then slumped down, pushing his knees against the back of his father’s seat. The only sound was the rumble of the car’s engine until Sam mumbled something under his breath.

“What was that, son?” John’s voice from the front seat was quiet but sharp.

“I said, ‘You’re lucky it wasn’t as big as the ones in the book.’” Sam practically spat out the words. “If the sandworm had been even a fraction of that size it wouldn’t have fit in the aquifer, and that definitely wouldn’t have been enough water to kill it. What the fuck would you have done then, huh? Spray it with a water hose? Spit on it? Stand and watch as they fed me to it?”

“Watch your tone, young man. You were never in any real danger. Your brother was right by your side the whole time. We had a reliable size estimate for the worm based on past reports and knowing the size of the tunnel that it would be coming through. This was a systematic operation, and you will not treat it like a joke.”

He continued, “The only real risk in the process was that those cult members might notice when their supposed ‘innocent victim’ was mouthing the words to the summoning ritual right along with them. Next time you need to keep your focus and control your mouth.”

“Oh, is that what I need to do? Please, father, tell me more about how to effectively play the damsel in distress, because that’s clearly my greatest goal in life. And hey, maybe next time you can pick a cult whose holy book I haven’t already read at least five times over. You may have to look pretty hard; I’ve read through all of the major ones a lot more than that. Actually, don’t bother. Even if you find a new one I’ll just end up memorizing it during the research phase anyway. Fucking hell.”

“That is it, Sam. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you, but it ends _now_. Your attitude is unbelievable. I never got this kind of shit from your brother, and I will not accept it from you. Do you hear me?” John paused for a moment, and when he continued he was no longer yelling. Instead, his voice became cold and hard.

“Maybe we waited too long to clue you in on this part of our lives. Maybe your big brother spoiled you too much. But you will do your part for this family and that includes researching cases, hunting monsters, and saving innocent lives. You do not have to like it, but you will get it done and you will not bitch about it in my hearing. Do you understand?”

Sam opened his mouth to protest, but Dean caught his eye with a pleading look and desperate shake of his head. Sam looked from his brother’s face to his wrists and back again. Then he sighed.

“Fine.” He muttered. “Yes, I understand.” Dean grimaced and gestured emphatically.

“Sir,” Sam added, rolling his eyes and slumping lower on the seat. Dean let out a sigh of relief.

“Good.” John said and turned on the radio with the volume a little louder than strictly necessary.

Sam watched his brother slowly relax and begin tapping his fingers to the beat. He remembered the reassuring pressure of those hands on his back and shook his head at the irony of a world where he felt more at ease tied to an alter than in this car that was the closest thing he had to a home. He promised himself that some day he’d build a life where he could feel comfortable being himself all of the time. A life where he could make his own decisions and never have to follow orders again . . .

He felt something hit him in the side of the head. He turned to look at his brother, and the next ball of paper smacked him right between the eyes.

“Stop moping so loud, dude; I can’t hear the music.”

“What the hell? Jerk!”

“Whatever, bitch.”

Sam shoved Dean. His brother shoved him back against the door, and then started tickling him mercilessly. Sam tried desperately to push away his hands before dissolving into helpless laughter. When Dean finally relented, Sam gasped for breath and leaned against his brother for support.

“God I hate you.”

Dean wrapped his arm around his little brother. “Yeah, right. You know you love me, bitch.”

“Jerk,” Sam said, ducking his head so that his brother couldn’t see him smile.


End file.
